


Privilege

by CaptainOzone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Father-Son Relationship, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Peter Pettigrew Gets Caught, Prisoner of Azkaban AU, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin Friendship, Sirius Black Free from Azkaban, Sirius Black-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 20:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4975615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainOzone/pseuds/CaptainOzone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A single moment, a single action, can alter the course of destiny. For better or worse. In this case...well, the rat did deserve to get knocked unconscious, didn't he? Sirius sure thought so. A Prisoner of Azkaban AU. Rated for language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ErinNovelist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinNovelist/gifts).



> This is a belated birthday gift to my birthday buddy and dear friend Erin. I love you so much, and I cannot thank you enough for all the light you shine in my life. 
> 
> Please note several things about this POA AU: 1) Snape will not appear in the Shrieking Shack. He finds the Map later than he does in the book. 2) It is not the full moon.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Sirius had never thought this moment would come.

He’d waited twelve years for this. Twelve. Bloody. Years. And here they were. The very fucking rat who ruined his friends’ lives was finally in his grasp. Groveling. At his feet. The very one who betrayed them, killed them, framed him, sent him to Azkaban, and prompted his escape…  

Twelve years ago, he had lost everything and everyone important to him. Now he was going to make up for it. He was going to avenge them. He was going to do right by them. He was going to finally, _finally_ kill Peter Pettigrew.

Dizzy with anticipation and manic glee, Sirius raised the ginger’s wand, wasted muscles quaking with the power he held over the man he once called _brother._

Remus stood at his shoulder, his own wand raised in preparation. Harry…James and Lily’s son—their son, his godson—stood at the edges of the room with his friends, green eyes darting between the pathetic excuse for a man and the two remaining Marauders…

 _It shouldn’t be this way,_ Sirius realized, and it hit like a lightning strike. Pity. Remorse. Loss. He hadn’t felt such things in a long time, not since the dementors first floated by his cell. Not so keenly, anyway. Anger and revenge had been companions for far too long, and the emotions assailing him now were far more crippling than he remembered.

_It shouldn’t have been this way._

He shouldn’t have had to exchange apologies with Remus. He shouldn’t have had to doubt Remus’ ability to forgive. He shouldn’t have had to meet his godson for a second time. He shouldn’t have been a stranger to Harry’s friends. Bloody hell, he should have been there to watch Harry grow, with James and Lily and Remus and Peter…

The man responsible for it all…

“You should have realized,” Remus said softly, “if Voldemort didn’t kill you, we would. Goodbye, Peter.”

Sirius’ anger surged again as Peter cringed. How dare he. How dare he not stand and admit to what he’d done. How _dare he_ not stand to accept his fate like a Gryffindor!

He and Remus drew a breath simultaneously, the words forming on their lips…

“NO!”

Harry thrust himself forward, spreading his arms and placing his skinny body between the last two Marauders and the traitor. “You can’t kill him,” he said breathlessly, facing the drawn wands. “You can’t.”

The tip of Sirius’ wand dipped, and he stared at this miniature Lily-and-James— _Harry Potter_ , his godson—who…was defending the rat?

_Harry could have called them all “Uncle…”_

The sound of Peter’s wheezing numbed Sirius’ shock. He pulled his lips into a snarl. “Harry, this piece of vermin is the reason you have no parents.” _And the reason Remus and I lost two of our dearest friends._ “This cringing bit of filth would have seen you die too, without turning a hair.” _And he nearly did fucking see it, too._

Harry faltered, his willful mask slipping for one second to reveal a vulnerable boy underneath, but before Sirius could say another word, his resolve solidified. He might look like James, but that stubborn expression was all Lily.

It almost took his breath away.

“You heard him,” Sirius continued, unable to stop himself. “His own stinking skin meant more to him than your whole family.”

“I know,” Harry panted. “We’ll take him up to the castle. We’ll hand him over to the dementors…He can go to Azkaban…but don’t kill him.”

Sirius continued to stare as Peter flung his arms around Harry’s knees. “You—thank you—it’s more than I deserve—thank you…”

“Get off me,” Harry spat in disgust, kicking Peter off his legs. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it because…I don’t reckon my dad would’ve wanted them to become killers—just for you.”

Harry’s words struck squarely in the heart, and Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus, who looked equally affected by what Harry had just said.

 _He’s right,_ Moony’s eyes said. James wouldn’t have wanted this. Never. James always did see the good in people, and Harry…Harry. Sirius never would have guessed the little ball of energy he once knew, the little tyke he and James spoiled rotten, would grow up to have such a mature inner strength and control.  

And as much as he wanted to see the light fade from Peter’s eyes, he decided it was worth leaving him for the dementors, if only because it was an experience to feel this much pride again.

Because he was proud. So, so proud of Harry.

Remus watched him carefully, blue eyes cautionary yet compassionate, and it sent an almost-forgotten pang through him. Moony was always the sensible one. Even now, Sirius knew he was trying to keep him out of trouble.

And as bloody unfortunate as it was, neither of them had the legal right to perform an execution, did they?

Normally, Sirius had little regard for the rules, but he’d had enough of the wizarding world’s legal system to last him a lifetime. Remus had had enough to shoulder the last twelve years without adding his part in Peter’s death to the pile. Most importantly, however, they had to remember _Harry_ had asked them to lower their wands.

So together, they did just that.

“You’re the only person who has the right to decide, Harry,” Sirius said. It was the truth, but after so many years, it was impossible for him to keep himself from trying one more time. He glared at Peter. “But think…think what he did…”

“He can go to Azkaban. If anyone deserves that place, he does.”

Remus said something in response to Harry, but Sirius didn’t quite hear. Peter, who had been wheezing and crying behind Harry, suddenly looked up and met his eyes. There was an upward turn to his lips.

Lunging forward and shoving Harry out of the way, Sirius lashed out with his wand. The jet of red light struck Peter right between the eyes, and as Peter toppled right over, that goddamned little _smirk_ dropped off his face.

“No!” Harry cried in dismay. The bushy-haired girl raced forward, grabbing Harry’s jacket sleeve and yanking him away. Her wand was at the ready, pointed directly at Sirius.

Sirius was unfazed, and he kicked Peter over. “Sloppy,” he muttered to himself. “At least the dementors didn’t take all of my Auror reflexes.”

“Wh—what did you do to him?” the ginger boy asked, staring in horror at the man on the floor.

“Stunned him. Cheeky git was mocking me,” Sirius explained. A bitter and guilty part of Sirius dared to ask where Pettigrew could have _possibly_ learned that sort of behavior. “Thought he was going to get the better of us.”

“He was planning to transform and escape the moment he had the chance,” Remus said softly, coming up to stand next to Sirius. He looked down at Peter, sorrow aging his face. “Always so obvious, Peter.”

Sirius winced. “Not always,” he muttered, and he looked up to see Harry’s green eyes locked on him.

“It’ll be easier to take him to the castle now,” Remus said. “We can wake him when he’s in the care of the proper authorities.”

“Pity he’ll only have a little headache when he wakes up.”

“A headache will be the least of his worries when he wakes up.”

Silence reigned in the Shrieking Shack before it registered to Sirius what this meant. He began to laugh—it was hysterical and exhausted laughter, but it was laughter all the same—and a broad smile spread across Moony’s face. Sirius’ abdominals hurt from laughing so hard. Breathlessly, he clapped Remus on the shoulder, but Remus brushed Sirius’ hand away and pulled him into an embrace.

After a single stunned second, Sirius squeezed Remus tight. His laughter had subsided to giggles, and he knew he must seem positively mad.

“It’s over,” Sirius said into Moony’s shoulder. “It’s over.”

“It’s over,” Remus agreed, unheard by the children in the room “It’s…Merlin, I’m so sorry, Padfoot. I’m so sorry.”

Oh, no. Sirius wouldn’t have that. With a smile, Sirius drew away and joked, “Oh, ge’off, you big softie.”

Remus studied Sirius face. They needed to talk, but for now, this was enough. The guilt in Moony’s expression ebbed, and his smile returned. Poking Sirius in the ribs, he said, “You look awful, you know.”

“And you look like an old man,” Sirius snapped back. Remus chuckled, eyes alight.

“This is bloody _bizarre_ ,” Sirius heard the ginger mutter to Harry and the girl.

“No more than usual, I say,” Harry said. Sirius would have laughed again, but something about his tone sounded off.

He didn’t quite like it, and he quirked a brow at Remus, who shook his head. _Later._

Something wasn’t right, but if there was one thing Sirius could count on, it was that there would be plenty of time for _later_. Happiness flooded him, a sun-shower of brilliance and light he had never expected to feel again.

“It…It really is going to be alright,” Harry said, projecting his voice so that Remus and Sirius would acknowledge them. The two men turned away from each other and saw Harry regarding them with a hesitant smile. “Isn’t it?”

Remus waved his wand, and ropes to bind Peter’s arms and legs materialized. Another wave and Peter was up in the air, his balding head lolling every which way. “It will be,” he said. “Mr. Weasley, before we head back to—”

Sirius felt dizzy again, and he braced himself against the wall.

“Erm…Mr. Black?” the girl called. “Are you—is he alright?”

Harry was at his side before she had finished calling his surname. “I got him. Tend to Ron, please, Professor.”

 _Professor_ , Sirius chuckled to himself. How perfectly ‘Remus’ to go and become a _teacher._

He was probably the best at the school, that one.

 “He is,” Harry said, and Sirius realized he’d been commenting aloud. “The best professor I ever had, I mean.”

“I’m glad. Moony always did have trouble finding his calling.”

Harry gave him a perplexed look. “You alright?”

“Never better,” Sirius said cheerily. “I’m a bit knackered, understandably, but once we get to the castle—”

“You did a right number on Mr. Weasley’s leg, Sirius,” Remus chastised from the other end of the room.

Sirius winced and sent an apologetic look toward the boy. “Sorry about that, mate. I got a little overexcited. No hard feelings?”

The boy—it should have been obvious to Sirius he was a Weasley—flicked his gaze between Sirius and Peter. He didn’t look particularly comfortable with Remus working on his leg, but once the magic splint settled and the girl helped him to his feet, he smiled gratefully at the werewolf before turning to Sirius. “Yeah, mate,” he said casually. The twinkle in his eye suggested that Sirius would never live it down, and Sirius decided he liked this boy. Not all boys would be so forgiving of a convicted felon taking a chunk out of their leg...and then breaking it for good measure. Harry did well choosing him as a friend. “I suppose I should thank you. For saving me from…” Weasley shrugged in the direction of Peter.

“Right,” Sirius said. “That must’ve been quite…an uncomfortable revelation, to say the least.”

Beside him, Harry swallowed a snort, and the Weasley boy flushed bright red. “Oh, shut up, Harry. You were sleeping with him, too.”

Even Remus cracked a smile at that. “We need to head straight to the Headmaster’s office as soon as possible,” he said. “And of course, Dumbledore was summoned to Bulgaria for some business or another. Tonight of all nights. If we get stopped…Sirius, it might be a good idea if you transformed once we’re in sight of the castle. It will buy us some time to explain if one of the other professors catches us on the way. They must see Peter first.”

Sirius offered a salute and staggered upright. Sleep could wait its little arse by the backdoor. He _would_ be coherent when Peter was taken into custody.

“After you, Moony,” he said. “I’ll transform when…” Sirius trailed off, sudden panic gripping him. _Moony. Transform._ He struggled to remember last night’s moon and then stared at Remus, trying to pinpoint any of the signs and symptoms he had learned to recognize over the years. “Remus. The date. What is the date?”

“The full moon is tomorrow,” the girl offered. She automatically bit her lip when everyone turned to look at her. Looking ashamed of herself, she murmured, “Er…Professor Lupin, sir…I—I…I wanted to…”

Sirius considered her as she stumbled through an apology. Remus had called her the brightest witch of her age, but when she exposed his secret, Sirius had thought she wasn’t quite bright at all. He thought she wouldn’t appreciate what Remus had told them. About himself. About his lycanthropy. He thought none of them would quite understand how hard it was for him to speak about it.

But here she was, proving him wrong. Harry did do quite well picking his mates.

They reminded him of his own.

Remus smiled lightly and began to walk, not caring in the slightest if Peter’s head knocked against the ceiling of the tunnel. “It’s quite alright, Hermione,” he said. “We’ll…have to discuss this later, but rest assured, we’re safe tonight. Let’s get back to the castle.”

Remus ushered Weasley and Hermione forward, and once the three of them disappeared into the tunnel, Peter’s body followed, Sirius and Harry a step behind.

“You know what this means?” Sirius asked abruptly as they maneuvered down the tunnel. “Turning Pettigrew in?”

“You’re free.”

“Yes…” Sirius said, happiness bubbling within him again. “But I’m also—I’m not sure if anyone told you—I’m your godfather.”

In the cramped space, Harry attempted to turn towards him, eyes cautious. “Yeah, I knew that.”

 _He doesn’t see it. He doesn’t understand what it means._ Anxiety gripped Sirius. What was he doing? This was a boy he didn’t know. How could he expect Harry would feel comfortable talking to him, much less standing in the same room as him? Besides, his Prongslet was grown now, full of experiences Sirius hadn’t been able to share.

But there would be plenty more to come, wouldn’t there? Whether Harry liked it or not, he was going to try to be a part of his life. If he didn’t like it...

“Well…your parents appointed me your guardian,” Sirius said, taking the plunge. “If anything happened to them…”

Harry’s eyes flicked back to him and widened, breath catching in his throat. Sirius couldn’t be sure it was a good or bad thing.

So he just started babbling. James would surely be laughing his arse off to see him so terrified of his son. “I’ll understand, of course, if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle. But…well…think about it. Once my name’s cleared…if you want…a different home…”

His godson stopped walking entirely, a strange, dazed expression on his face. “What—live with you? Leave the Dursleys?”

Rejection bit at Sirius, and he wondered if he’d taken things too fast. He probably had. He usually did. Perhaps they should have started at tea. Maybe shared a Christmas together first. “Of course, I thought you wouldn’t want to,” Sirius tried to backtrack. “I understand, I just thought I’d—”

 “Are you insane?” Harry croaked.

Sirius’ heart stopped for half a second before Harry’s eyes lit up, his smile spreading from ear to ear. “Of course I want to leave the Dursleys! Have you got a house? When can I move in?”

Later, Sirius would wonder why Harry was so eager to leave his relatives for an escaped convict he began to trust not only minutes before, but at the moment, all he could register was that Harry accepted.

“You want to? You mean it?”

“Yeah, I mean it!”

Sirius beamed. Every step forward felt as though he were walking on air. Happiness was a drug, he decided. How had he lived without it for twelve years?

“D’you…” Harry began awkwardly, suddenly subdued. “D’you think they’ll let me? Move in with you?”

Sirius snorted. “I don’t quite care who _‘they’_ are.” _Fuck the Ministry and everything to do with it!_ “If it’s what you truly want, I’d like to see them _try_ to take you away from me again.”

Harry grew silent, and Sirius wondered if he’d said something wrong.

No, that wasn’t it. A spark of familiarity flared within, but he couldn’t place it. The bright light of the rising moon shone through the tunnel just a few meters ahead, and Sirius had to squint as he stared at the back of Harry’s head, trying to make sense of him.

Their odd little procession was brought to an abrupt halt, and Sirius’ attention was diverted from Harry when Crookshanks slinked between his legs and sped up to the base of the Whomping Willow.

Once Hermione’s clever cat darted out to tap the root, Remus went up through the hole and announced the coast was clear. Peter floated out after Remus, and Hermione and Weasley, taking care not to jostle the boy’s leg, struggled out behind them.

Harry clambered ahead to help Hermione with Weasley, but before Sirius could register his absence, he returned. “Would it be easier if… you transformed?” Harry asked, eyeing him as though he were one of his dear mother’s antique (and easily shattered) elf-made glass goblets.

Sirius was a little out of practice, but he did know the godson was not supposed to worry about the godfather. He wouldn’t lie to Harry when the answer was obvious, however, so he nodded but did not transform, wanting very much to stay in human form. He might be about ready to topple over, but with Peter captured, with Remus and Harry back in his life, with the relief of knowing it was only a matter of time before he was well and truly _free…_

He felt human again. ~~~~

Slipping on loose dirt, he heaved himself out of the hole and scowled when Harry climbed out behind without trouble. “Show off,” he muttered.

Harry grinned easily. It was James’ smile, and Sirius had to blink to remind himself… Sirius shook his head and padded ahead to walk abreast with Remus, who was murmuring in undertone to Hermione.

“…but surely there is…” Hermione was saying.

“Not quite,” Moony said. “The Werewolf Registry is just as unorganized and unethical as it was when I was bitten.”

Hermione scoffed. “What of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? Is there no current legislation…?”

Sirius growled wordlessly under his breath. Remus shared a bitter smile with him. “Not in their jurisdiction,” Remus said. “Well, no one really knows for sure. If the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures wasn’t so busy shunting my kind back and forth between the ‘Beasts’ and ‘Beings’ Divisions…they might actually _do_ their jobs, God forbid.”

“That’s appalling!” Hermione exclaimed. “What is it with wizards and bigotry? I don’t understand wh—!”

“None of us do,” Sirius interrupted. “None of the sane ones, anyway.”

“And this is coming from Sirius Black?” joked Weasley. “ _Toujours Pur?_ ”

Sirius barked a laugh, returning Weasley’s sarcasm with some of his own. “You can’t _possibly_ mean the disowned Sirius Black, mass murderer and friend-betrayer? Can’t say I know him too well.”

“You were disowned?” Harry asked, genuinely curious.

“You doubt me, Harry?”

“Everything else is false.”

“Not that part,” Remus said before Sirius could. “Sirius defied every last thing the Blacks believed.”

“That…was your dad’s doing, mostly,” Sirius said, nodding at Harry. “If I hadn’t met him on the train…If I hadn’t met them all on the train…”

“Bugger that!” Remus said. “Harry, your godfather is actually being modest for once in his life.”

“Oi!”

Remus shot him one of those rare, impish grins of his and said to Harry, “He’ll tell you all about it in generous detail soon enough. But if there was ever a man worthy of Gryffindor, it’d be Sirius.” His expression sobered, and he looked back at Peter. “More so now than ever.”

 _Well, shit._ Sirius staggered under the weight of the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He’d forgotten this. He truly had. He had not felt the urge to cry in twelve years. Not that he ever had cried much in the first place, mind you. He wasn’t some little girl like…

His thoughts tumbled to a screeching halt, the old joke pinching at the already-aching wound. _Oh, Peter. What have you done?_

Moony switched his wand to his non-dominant hand so that he could clap Sirius on the shoulder, but Sirius stared straight ahead, unable to acknowledge Moony and completely unaware of Harry’s eyes on him.

 _We’re the last,_ he repeated to himself over and over. _Moony and I. We’re the last._

James was gone. Peter was about as good as dead to him. They’d never be the same again. They’d never have what they dreamed of having, and for the first time since Sirius realized Peter had betrayed the Potters, he didn’t feel the least bit angry.

He had not mourned in Azkaban.

“Sirius…” Remus began.

Moony never did get to finish. Harry shouted a wordless warning, but it wasn’t enough. Sirius spun around just in time to see a dark shape rise from the ground.

“Expelliarmus!”

Remus wasn’t fast enough to retaliate. His wand flew from his hand, and behind them, Peter fell to the ground with a loud _thump._ Sirius’ borrowed wand was snatched from him too, and he immediately searched for Harry. Before he could find him, a flurry of black spun and flashed before his eyes, and he was propelled back, _away_ …

“Harry!” Sirius shouted, the moment he regained his balance. Harry yelled indistinctly over the black whirlwind, and Hermione screamed. Standing back to back with Remus, he turned and twisted. He didn’t care much for the swirling blackness that encased him, but the loss of his godson, so soon after he found him again… “Harr—!” 

A wand tip jabbed into his jugular, choking off the call, and the swirling black settled into not just one distinct form, but _three._ Thudding footsteps and booming yelling indicated a fourth person was approaching fast.

Naturally, Sirius focused on the person closest to him, the one holding a wand to his throat. “Well, well, well,” Sirius croaked, attempting a smile. “ _Snivel_ —”

Sneering, Snape applied more pressure to his vocal cords, and McGonagall and Sprout advanced closer, their wands never wavering from the two Marauders. “Don’t even think about it,” Snivellus ordered, punctuating each word viciously.

“No!” Harry shouted, straining against Hagrid’s arm, which shot out and wrapped around all three children. Hermione and Weasley shouted over one another and fought with equal fervor, but Hagrid had no trouble holding them all back, his expression anguished and face ruddy with exertion from his sprint across the grounds. “No! Stop!” Harry said. “Stop! Please! You don’t under—!”

 “Enough, Potter!” Snape snapped. “Granger! Weasley! Enough! Hagrid, take them back!”

Sirius tensed, causing everyone around him to do the same. Remus, for his part, had not moved a single muscle, if one didn’t count his slight trembling. Paired with his wan, clammy skin and stony-faced expression, it took less than a fraction of a second for Sirius to realize Moony was hurting. He needed rest…otherwise this moon wouldn’t be an entirely pretty one.

Silence pervaded, tensions high, before McGonagall wearily asked, “What have you done to them, Sirius?”

She was surely a sight for sore eyes. Sirius had missed her. “Hello, Minnie, dear. It’s been awhile, hasn—?”

“Black!” she barked, eyes flashing. “I see you have not lost your charm in Azkaban. I would advise you take this seriously. For once in your life.”

Ignoring Moony’s sidelong glare, Sirius almost grinned. “I’m taking this very seriously. This is a big moment, after all.”

 “I ask again, Black. What have you done to them?”

“Told them the truth. Showed them, rather. Ask Remus. Ask…”

He almost twisted from Snape’s grasp, desperate to see if Peter was still unconscious on the ground. He was rewarded for it with a spell right to the gut and a wrenching pain when Snape yanked his head back around, but the sight of the rat lying ignored on the ground made it worth it.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes and leveled her wand again. “Don’t try another move like that again, Black. Or we won’t ask questions before we cast.” Turning to Remus, she said, “Why? _Why_ , Remus?”

Remus lowered his hands slightly. “I need everyone to—”

“To calm down?” Sprout shot off. “ _Calm down?_ Is that it, Remus?”

“To see who it is lying on the ground behind us,” Remus finished calmly. “You might not think I deserve any favors right now, and you certainly don’t think Sirius deserves any favors right now, but _Harry does._ ”

They hadn’t expected that, and all but Snape couldn’t help but flick their gazes toward Harry Potter, who stopped struggling upon hearing his name. Sensing this was his moment, Harry said strongly, “Someone is going to Azkaban tonight, and it isn’t Sirius!”

“’arry…” Hagrid sighed sadly.

 “Listen to me! It is _not_ Sirius!The only way you’ll believe any of us…is if you see who it is lying a few paces behind Professor Lupin.” Harry was able to wiggle out of Hagrid’s hold just enough to get an arm free, and he pointed at Peter’s form.

Sirius could tell Sprout hadn’t expected to see anyone. Eyes widening and wand dropping immediately, she breathed, “Dear Merlin!”

McGonagall’s expression was enough to warn Sirius he’d best stay put as Sprout gathered her robes and rushed to the fallen man. Snape’s grip on him tightened just enough to leave bruises and pull his hair out by the roots, but he merely rolled his eyes at both of them and said, “I’ve waited twelve years. I’m watching this.”

And it was oh-so-satisfying.

Sprout dropped to her knees and waved her wand over Peter in a series of complicated patterns. Sirius recognized her spells from the field and remembered she had been training as a Healer before she had a change of heart and joined the Hogwarts staff during the Marauders’ sixth year.

Sirius smiled. There was always an identification spell in an emergency responder’s repertoire.

Diagnostic spells complete, Sprout sat back on her heels and stared at the man in front of her. “Oh,” she said. For a second, she was silent, but with a speed that belied her size, she lit her wand tip and brushed Peter’s matted hair from his face, her chest heaving.

“Pomona?” McGonagall asked.

“Oh, gods,” was all Sprout had to say. Her hands shook, and she looked up from Peter to Sirius and back again, horror etched into her face. “Oh, _gods_.”

“Pomona!”

“It’s Peter. It’s little Peter Pettigrew,” Sprout gasped, and McGonagall’s face was priceless. Sirius nearly laughed, his heart swooping with triumph. “He’s…he’s alive. Merlin’s fucking _bollocks. He’s alive._ ”

Snape stiffened behind him, and both he and McGonagall stared at Sirius, who said, “The Potters switched. At the last minute. I was too easy. I thought I could be bait. I thought…I was…”

_I was the one who told them to switch._

“It was another layer of protection for them…if everyone still assumed it was me.”

McGonagall looked to Remus for confirmation, and he said, “No one knew. No…No one. Not me—not until tonight—not even Albus Dumbledore…”

“But Voldemort did,” Sirius said. “Peter made sure of that.”

McGonagall’s stern face, which had been pinched with tension, fell slack. Snape, catching a short glance from the elder professor, pulled Sirius around like a straw doll and dragged him, more than led him, toward Peter. It was exceedingly humiliating. McGonagall, for her part, didn’t do much more than gesture impatiently at Remus with her wand.

“Look, Minerva,” Sprout whispered as they approached. She took one of Peter’s hands in her own and displayed the missing finger, and all the color drained from McGonagall’s face.

“Not proof enough,” Snape said harshly, though he, too, stared at Pettigrew as though he was seeing him for the first time.

McGonagall blinked rapidly, tearing her eyes away from Peter to stare at Sirius. “…Yes. Severus is right. Identification spells aren’t always perfect, and Polyjuice…”

“How would anyone get a hair from a man who’d supposedly blown himself up twelve years ago?” Sirius asked, unable to keep his temper under control. Oddly, Snape didn’t try to stop him from speaking. “A finger, they say! That’s all that was left!”

Sirius was suddenly aware of Harry’s presence next to him, and he felt himself relaxing in Snape’s hold. Hagrid had approached and brought the teens with him. His beetle-black eyes were overflowing with tears as he regarded Harry and Sirius. “I can’ believe i’,” he blubbered. “I can’ believe i’. Yeh wen’ off ta take ‘im on, di’nt ya, Sirius? Peter? Tha’ night when yeh gave me Harry? When…?”

Sirius didn’t respond. He closed his eyes, guilt threatening to overcome him. He’d never forgive himself for it.

“Perhaps I spoke rashly,” Snivellus said suddenly, a strange inflection in his tone. “Perhaps this is proof enough.”

Sirius couldn’t quite believe he heard it come from Snape’s mouth first, and he stared with wide eyes at the man he once tormented. Snape didn’t notice. Or pretended not to notice. He was more interested in Peter. With the hateful look Snape was giving the rat, Sirius wouldn’t have been surprised if Peter somehow ended up in his secret torture chambers or private vivisecting lab.

“Thank you, Professors,” Harry said, turning Sirius’ attention away from Snape. Gratitude made his voice crack as he frowned down at Pettigrew. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank us yet, Potter,” McGonagall said, and Sirius’ heart panged. He wondered how Remus managed it for a full year—coexisting with Harry without feeling as though his lungs were about to collapse every time he heard his name.

The elder professor raised a brow at Snape, who relaxed his hold on Sirius. She looked him up and down, lips pursing again. “We will request an audience with Professor Dumbledore,” she said.

“But—”

“He will return for this. His business in Bulgaria can hold. Madam Bones, as well as investigators and Aurors in her Department, will be summoned from the Ministry, and you three—” she gestured between Remus, Sirius, and then Peter “—must testify under Veritaserum.”

“About damn time.”

Sprout, like Hagrid, was crying openly, and she swatted Sirius. “You’re awful, Sirius Black. You’re awful. Always were, making your inappropriate jokes at inappropriate times and your—your...This…This changes... Merlin, we…We—”

“It was a mistake,” Sirius said, his humor gone and voice detached. “It was all a _mistake_.”

“And we’ll get to the bottom of it,” McGonagall said. “Black, Lupin, I must ask that we keep your hands bound.”

Sirius hesitated, appalled by the idea of being shackled again and about ready to give her a piece of his mind, but when he saw Remus extend his hands and Harry jerk his head, he found the courage to follow. “For Harry,” he muttered as she tapped his wrists with her wand.

McGonagall’s sharp features softened. “For Harry.”

They hadn’t taken more than two steps before Harry wheeled in his tracks and gasped, his breath hitching sharply. Sirius, too, shivered, a swirling pit of dread opening up in his stomach.

He didn’t have to look up to know, but regardless, he did.

Swarms of them came, their cloaked heads searching and searching, soulless and empty eye sockets trained, all trained, on him. They were coming. Coming. They were here for him, and the shivers that had announced their arrival became full-body tremors. Screams from the prisoners of Azkaban rang and rang in his ears, piercing and tormenting and driving like a Muggle drill into his mind…

_Sirius, Sirius, please, you don’t…_

_You haven’t a single right to beg for mercy, Peter!_

_Sirius…_

_You killed them, you rat! You betrayed them! You—_

_I’m warning you, Sirius!_

_I’m going to kill you, Peter! I’m going to_ kill _you for what you’ve done!_

_…I did warn you, didn’t I? I did. I did. What happens next is on you now._

_Wha—?_

_YOU’RE MAD. YOU’VE GONE MAD. SIRIUS, HOW COULD YOU? MURDERER! YOU WERE THEIR SECRET-KEEPER. YOU KILLED THEM. YOU KILLED THEM. THE POTTERS WERE OUR—”_

Someone touched Sirius, yelling in his ear. Blindly, he cringed and fought off the hand. His world suddenly upended, and as blinking spots danced in his tunneled vision, his chest heaved and lungs sprinted to fight the frost creeping up on him, the darkness threatening to overcome him….

_James, I can’t._

_Oh, of course you can, Padfoot! Aren’t you the one always claiming you—?_

_This isn’t a joke!_

_No… no, it isn’t. I’m sorry. I just…this is…Why are you bringing this up now, Sirius? We’ve already decided._

_Then reconsider! Don’t you understand? It isn’t safe. You…you should use someone else._

_Padfoot. Sirius—c’mon, mate, Lily and I have talked about this…_

_Remus…no, no, not Remus. Peter. Ask Peter. No one would ever know. If everyone still assumes it’s me, you’ll be safe. It’s perfect. It’ll be perfect. He’d never guess._

_I can’t ask you to—_

_Please, Prongs. Voldemort…there’s a traitor in our midst. I don’t trust anyone anymore. After what happened yesterday…_

_Alright, Pads. Alright. I’ll tuck Harry in, and we’ll talk…_

They were close. They were everywhere. There were so many of them, and Sirius wasn’t prepared. With his recent taste of freedom, the dementors’ effects hit him harder than they ever had in Azkaban, where he’d learnt to control his mind. Emotions he had never had the chance to process struck all at once, and tears spilled from his eyes, sobs wracking his throat.

The sound of his dearest friend’s voice felt so real, so close, and it hurt.

He tried to shuffle back…

It was so cold, so cold.

And it was his fault. All, all his fault.

_My fault. My fault. I killed the Potters. I am to blame. My friends. My fault. Everything…I…_

Sirius felt it when the first Patronus was cast. He couldn’t have known whose it was, but it was enough to spread a sheer film of warmth over his heart, enough for him to take control and find a handhold on that ever-slippery slope.

 _I couldn’t have known,_ he realized. _No one had known. It was Peter. It was Peter who killed them, betrayed them all, left Harry without…_

_Harry._

A second Patronus darted overhead, and this time, Sirius could see it. Moony. Moony had gotten hold of a wand. Mind less foggy, Sirius rolled to his side, retched, and tried to struggle upright. Getting on his feet was near impossible, but he managed. Beyond the sea of dementors, he could vaguely make out McGonagall’s silvery cat. Snape was nowhere to be seen, but Sprout stood with Hagrid, using her noncorporeal Patronus to shield the two children…

Two. Two? _Harry_. Harry wasn’t there, and Sirius almost retched again. Where was…?

His vision went black, a slithering, cold hook lodging itself deep, deep within and giving a forceful yank. Something tore, something vital, and deliriously, Sirius wondered if this was how fish felt when they were snagged. He’d never partake in fishing again if that were the case. Shame, really. Peter had been the fisherman, but Sirius always had a grand time whenever—

The hook ripped itself right through the good memory, and Sirius opened his mouth in a silent scream. Now that one had gone, the others followed. Memory after memory flashed through his mind, and every last pinch of happiness was sucked away, leaving behind…

He tried to fight it. He tried. He clung and scrabbled to block his mind, to reach for Padfoot, whose magic had saved him in Azkaban time and time again, but it was in vain.

The dementors were there for his soul. And they would get it.

The finality of it wasn’t a happy thought, so they couldn’t take it from him. Not right away. Regret for things he’d done and the things he had never had the chance to do bubbled and overflowed, and like soap in a wound, it burned.

But then even that was gone, and the hook yanked and yanked, and he floated further, further…

“…PEC…TRON…” a yell broke through the void.

Sirius couldn’t know what the bloody hell “pectron” was, but at the moment, he was grateful for whichever strange Muggle had come up with the beautiful word. He latched onto it, the reality of the syllables—and the voice speaking them—grounding him in the void.

“….XPECTO…TRONUM!”

The two dementors hovering over Sirius faltered, their hooks easing from his soul, and Sirius gasped a sob. Light, the glowing silvery-white pulse of a noncorporeal Patronus, filtered into the edges of his vision.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry ( _Harry?_ ) roared.

The fuzzy glow exploded into a shower of bright light. The unique shriek of the dementors tore through Sirius’ consciousness, overpowering the echoing screams of the insane from Azkaban. As the Patronus galloped by, charging right at the dementors centimeters away from Kissing Sirius, air flooded his lungs, and the memories they had fed on returned with a vengeance, each feeling as fresh and beautiful as the day they were formed. Joy and laughter, pranks and shenanigans, smiles and drunken nights…it gave Sirius the strength to refocus his eyes, to move…to see…

Prongs stood guard over Sirius, Harry at his side, trembling with the effort of the charm. There was a break in the chaos, and across from him, he saw Peter’s eyes flutter open, latching with startling clarity on the stag Patronus. A turn of his head and Sirius found Moony’s jaw falling slack, his own Patronus fading to nothing.

But then he smiled, face alight, and Sirius, too, barked a strangled, delighted laugh.

It was an odd and downright depressing sort of circumstance they were in, but for perhaps the last time, the Marauders were together again.

Prongs bowed his head and remained imprinted in the night sky long after Harry crumpled to the ground, Peter’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and Sirius slid into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a flurry of activity around Sirius. A small army of white-cloaked Healers, who had been summoned specifically from St. Mungo’s to treat those suffering from the dementors’ attack, followed the direction of Madam Pomfrey as she bustled from bed to bed. Silver carts full of chocolate and potions clinked and floated haphazardly between patients. When he first woke, Sirius had amused himself by watching them for some time. They were polite medicine carts, and they murmured soft apologies to each other if they passed too close and, from time to time, could be overheard asking their patients if they required a Healer.

It was quite an impressive display of magic. Most of it—being in Hogwarts again, watching wands work…seeing magic performed…it was marvelous. Sirius had probably terrified a few of the young witches with his staring, if their uneasy glances and whispers had been anything to go by.

But after they’d decided to get back at him by forcing a barrage of nutritional and mental health potions down his throat, Sirius hadn’t wanted to have anything to do with them or their magic. He wasn’t so mad he’d _continue_ marveling over his torturers if that was the game they were going to play.

Remus had nearly fallen out of bed when he’d heard Sirius mutter the thought aloud, and Sirius probably shouldn’t have flung his pillow at him. The Healers hadn’t liked that much more than his staring.

He hadn’t been awake for long. When the first dose of potions finally had finally taken effect, Sirius had been lulled to sleep, and he had not woken until many hours later, when the Ministry officials arrived.

What transpired had been far more amusing than staring at magical potions carts. Ignoring the tasteful admonitions of Madam Amelia Bones and the blunt insults of old Mad-Eye, Fudge had barged in unannounced and shouted the patients awake. Madam Pomfrey hadn't been too pleased, to say the least. She had put her foot down, lectured him on appropriate behavior in a Hospital Wing, and kicked them out.

As Fudge sulked off, Sirius had found himself meeting Harry’s eyes…and then struggling to fight laughter with him.

After that, Sirius only had eyes for Harry.

It did worry Sirius that the dementors had such a strong effect on him, but the attack did not appear to have any lasting effects. The boy was pale, but he was finally sitting up in bed, accepting chocolate and chatting with Madam Pomfrey. Once she moved off, Ron Weasley muttered something to Harry, who laughed and responded with something that must have been equally funny, seeing as Weasley snickered and Hermione rolled her eyes.

Sirius didn’t recognize Harry’s laugh. It was far different than the cheerful giggle he once knew, but he decided this was better. It was his own, something that wasn’t his father’s or his mother’s. His laughter was… _Harry._ All Harry.

And Harry was truly remarkable. Last night, he had proved he was not only a powerful wizard in his own right, one that the Potter ancestors could look down upon with pride, but he also proved something far greater to Sirius.

He was merciful, and he was compassionate. He was brave, steadfast, and everything of James and Lily they could ever hope for.

_And he saved my life._

Sirius smiled and wished he had the physical strength and courage to get up and speak to him. Thank him. Praise him on his bravery. Maybe make him laugh, too…

Dammit, Sirius loved the kid. He had loved him before, of course, but it was easy to love a little baby, who blew spit bubbles at his dad, flew around on his little toy broomstick, and called him “Foo” because “Uncle Padfoot” was a too much of a mouthful for him to say. Sirius had heard often enough from his own family that it was difficult to like their offspring once they became teenagers, but Sirius already knew there’d be absolutely no issue when Harry moved in.

 _When. Not if._ Pettigrew was in an isolated magical ward—the one Remus used before the Wolfsbane Potion was invented, ironically enough—and there was no escaping the enchanted suits of armor and security spells guarding that room. The Ministry was here, no doubt interrogating those fit enough after the attack to answer their questions. Harry was alright, Remus was well, and Sirius’ freedom was guaranteed.

Who needed _potions_ when Sirius had the feeling of victory, his friends, and his godson to help him through the trials ahead?

_Even though the war..._

No. He wouldn't dwell on the war. He wouldn't dwell on the lost lives or the broken families. He had to focus on the present and what really mattered. Harry. Harry mattered, and Sirius himself was on the mend. The Healers assigned to his case had only positive things to say about plans for his recovery, and already, he felt stronger. Better yet, his mind was finally beginning to banish the sluggish fog that had tainted his mind since he entered Azkaban twelve years ago.

 _I’m not going back,_ he realized again. _I’m free._ Sirius laid back in bed and grinned gleefully at the ceiling.

“You look like you’ve just discovered the illusive thirteenth use of dragon’s blood.”

His annoyance at the metaphor was fleeting. Sirius turned his head to find Remus drawing up a chair beside him. “Amazing what a wash and hair cut can do,” Remus added. “You’re looking better.”

“Feeling better. What are you doing up? Surely Pomfrey hasn’t confined you to bed?”

“I took my dose just in time last night. I’m feeling fine now.”

Sirius scanned his friend, searching for a lie. He did look well. Better than last night, at any rate. Teaching at Hogwarts suited him. “Shame I can’t join you this time. I’ve missed running around the grounds like a maniac.” Sirius sighed and folded his arms behind his head. “Next time, I suppose.”

Remus laughed. “You still are a maniac, you know.”

“I’m wounded, Moony. That label should be gone by the end of the week! It was all a misunderstanding, and the mind Healer says I’m doing _very_ well all things considered, thank you very much.”

Seeing Remus’ humor die and his face pale, Sirius cursed under his breath and struggled to sit back up. “It was a joke, Remus.”

“A poor one,” Moony muttered.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” The corners of his mouth turned upward into humorless smile. “How can you joke about this? You…We…”

“Stop.” Sirius closed his eyes. “I can’t think about it now. I’ll be speaking enough about it in the days to come. So I make jokes. It’s easier.”

There was a heartbeat of silence. “How very Sirius of you.”

It’d been awhile since he heard his name used as a pun, and for a second, Sirius stared at his deadpan friend…before breaking down into hysterical laughter. He was still laughing to the point of crying when the doors to the Hospital Wing opened to admit Albus Dumbledore himself.

For having gone through the stress of organizing an emergency Portkey and crossing several countries, the Headmaster looked unruffled and calm. His purple robes were immaculate, and every last hair was perfectly in place. His twinkling blue eyes, rather less twinkly and more somber than Sirius ever remembered them being, scanned the room. 

Sirius and Remus, subdued by Dumbledore’s entrance, were the last to receive acknowledgement from the Headmaster, and Sirius was almost surprised by the rage that erupted within him.

“Glad you could join us, Professor.”

Sirius blinked in surprise and turned to Remus. He had only heard that tone of voice twice in his life: once when Sirius had pulled that stupidly ill-advised “prank” on Severus Snape in fifth year and once when Remus found out that it had been no accident he’d been infected with lycanthropy.

Remus Lupin was furious, and the only thing more terrifying than an angry Remus Lupin…

Sirius couldn’t quite fathom.

Dumbledore inclined his head, looking unfazed. His gaze flickered to Harry once, which made Sirius bristle, but then he approached with a smile. “Good morning, Remus.”

Remus did not respond, blue eyes flashing dangerously, and Sirius almost missed Dumbledore’s next words.

“Sirius,” the Headmaster said, addressing him for the first time. He reached out, as if to grasp Sirius’ hand. “It would seem…we have much to discuss.”

Sirius eyed his hand and then looked him up and down. Pristine. Collected. There wasn’t a hint of remorse in his eyes, no shame…he didn’t _care,_ did he?

_This man had been my hero once._

“…That’s _it_?”

Dumbledore dropped his hand and faced Remus, who whispered, “That’s all you have to say? After all this time, that’s _all you have to say?_ ”

“Remus, my boy…”

 _That condescending fucker._ Sirius narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth, ready to defend his friend, but again, he was cut off.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. We’re not children anymore, Albus! You have no right. I trusted you. I respected you. I have loved you like my own grandfather. You have done more for me than anyone outside of James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. You’ve done so much for all of us, but this does not excuse the mistake you’ve made.”

“Remus—”

“No, I knew something wasn’t right the night Sirius was taken in and Peter was nowhere to be found! I _knew!_  But you refused to see it! Your _arrogance_ led us here. You wouldn’t look beyond face value because you were _so sure_ Sirius was to blame. You had me doubting myself and one of my best friends _,_ the only one I had left, and you turned me against him. I lived twelve years of my life trying to reconcile that, and Sirius…” Remus’ eyes flickered to Sirius, who stared unblinkingly back at him. “Forgive me, Professor, but I _refuse_ to let you ‘discuss’ anything with Sirius until you give him the respect he deserves. The _apology_ he deserves.”

By the end of Remus’ tirade, the old man was dumbstruck, a hint of shame flushing his cheeks. Quite surprisingly, Sirius felt no victory. He was exhausted…and just wanted to find home again. It wasn’t worth being angry right now, not when there was so much to do. ~~  
~~

“Sirius…” Dumbledore began.

“I don’t want your apologies. Or your excuses,” Sirius snapped. “I don’t need anyone’s. The Black name is obviously still too powerful to change anyone’s stereotypes. So…no apologies, no excuses needed. What I need is to _change_ things. And I need your help to do so.”

Dumbledore was a stubborn man, but he was also an intelligent one. Inclining his head, he simply asked, “What can I do for you, Sirius?”

“The least you can do is ensure Remus and I get to witness Pettigrew’s confession.”

Blue eyes flashed. “As Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, I cannot.”

He didn’t even sound apologetic about it. “As Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, you most certainly can and will,” said Sirius. “I was denied a trial and a defense counsel, rights I had as a citizen of Wizarding Britain. Sure, the evidence was piled against me—Peter did his job well—but rules have already been broken in my case. Things have already been overlooked. Surely you can overlook this.”

If Dumbledore noticed the suggestion in Sirius’ words, he gave no sign. “Everyone will witness memories of the confessions in the courtroom.”

Shaking his head, Sirius said, “Not enough. They’ll only show the necessary bits in court. No, I want to see it all myself. I want him to look us in the eye when he says it. What he did. How he did it. How he could do it at all. Don’t Remus and I deserve that?”

Moony’s jaw twitched, and he nodded firmly. “I think Harry might want the same opportunity.”

Over Dumbledore’s shoulder, Sirius saw Harry turn their way, drawn from his own conversation with his friends by the mention of his name. Without taking his eyes from his godson, Sirius added loudly, “And speaking of Harry, that is the second thing I must ask of you. I would like our solicitors to review James and Lily Potter’s will, as well as Harry's certificates, and form a—”

“This I cannot allow,” Dumbledore interrupted, his tone brokering no argument.

Sirius watched his godson flinch, watched hope fade from his eyes and disappointment still his smile, and he decided it was well worth being angry now.

“Harry has agreed,” Sirius said tersely. “And I am his godfather. Surely the matter of guardianship—”

The Headmaster leaned forward and lowered his tone. “It is not a matter of how easy it would be for you to assume guardianship. This is a matter of security.”

Sirius’ brows rose. “You doubt my ability to protect Harry, Headmaster?”

Dumbledore leaned forward, lowering his tone. “I cannot discuss it in detail here, but know this, Sirius: the protection Harry has through his aunt is unparalleled. _Infallible._ There is nowhere—”

Sirius tried to pay attention to Dumbledore’s passionate appeal. Truly. But he focused instead on Harry. His godson—his brilliant godson—undoubtedly knew exactly what Dumbledore was saying, and he watched as Harry’s disappointment became grim resignation, then bitter amusement, and finally _apathy_.

Familiarity struck Sirius again, and this time, he could place it. Fury overwhelmed him, and he wished he had his wand on hand so he could start hexing on the spot.

How could they not notice? How could they turn a blind eye?

Didn’t Remus see? Remus was the first to see in Sirius’ case. Didn’t…?

 _D'you...D’you think they’ll let me?_ Harry had asked. _D'you think they'll let me?_

“Not so _infallible_ if he’s running away from home,” Sirius spat. “If he’s so ready and willing to leave the Dursleys for a man he hardly knows. No.” Harry’s head shot up, and Sirius could sense the distrustful hesitance emanating from across the room. “I will not allow him to go back. He will not step foot in that house again. I will fight you on this, Albus, and I will not play nice. Hear me now. Think what you want about the name of Black, but if there is one thing I can say with pride about my family, it is that we _never_ go back on our word.”

He held Dumbledore’s gaze, daring him to respond, daring him to make the first play, but the Headmaster was saved from moving his first pawn by none other than Cornelius Fudge himself, flanked yet again by Amelia Bones and Mad-Eye, whose electric blue eye swiveled and darted before finally settling directly on Sirius, Remus, and Dumbledore.

 “Madam Pomfrey, Albus,” Fudge greeted, removing his bowler. Nodding in Sirius' direction, he added, "Mr. Black."

Dumbledore stood fluidly. “Cornelius. I assume it is time?”

“Yes, I’m afraid I will not be kept waiting any longer.” The words made Sirius’ heart leap with anticipation. “We cannot afford any more lapses in protocol and must get on.”

 “I do apologize for the intrusion,” Madam Bones added politely. “I am sure this is an emotional time for all of you, but we cannot delay much longer if we wish to see justice served this day.”

“And if we wish to beat the Prophet from making a fucking mess of things,” grumbled Moody. “Because the Ministry couldn’t possibly look any worse than it already does, now could it, Black?”

That was about as much of an apology as he was going to get from his old boss, but Sirius didn’t mind. He grinned wolfishly. “Of course not, Mad-Eye. The Ministry does that well enough on its own, I would say.”

“Hush now, Alastor!” Madam Bones said, and looking between Remus, Sirius, and Dumbledore, she frowned. “I do hope we were not interrupting anything?”

Dumbledore smiled politely, obviously ready to deflect the question, but Sirius wouldn’t have that. “Yes, in fact, you are. We were discussing something of great importance.”

Madam Bones’ brow rose. “More important than your freedom and upcoming trial, Mr. Black?”

“Oh, there _will_ be a trial this time?”

He was rewarded with snickering from Harry and Ron Weasley, but the adults in the room weren’t impressed. “None of your sass, Black!” Mad-Eye snapped. “Nothing is guaranteed. Answer the question.”

“Is what we were discussing more important? Of course it was. We were talking about Harry.”

To his credit, Fudge caught on really quick. “Ah. You wish to attain guardianship, Mr. Black?”

“I _will_ attain guardianship, Mr. Fudge.”

Fudge chuckled, and Sirius stared, uncertain what was so funny. “Is Minister Fudge patronizing me, Moony?” he asked.

“It certainly seems that way, Padfoot.”

Fudge’s expression soured momentarily when he overheard the exchange, but his superior little smile was back in place in the blink of an eye. “Forgive me. I just don’t understand. It...has been a long time for you, Mr. Black. Surely you understand the responsibility?”

Well, that was not okay. Not fucking okay in the slightest. And when Harry’s expression faltered once again, fear and acknowledgement of Fudge’s words settling into his mind, Sirius had had enough. Fueled by renewed anger at the complete _idiocy_ surrounding him, Sirius grunted and swung his legs over the side of his bed. He toppled upright and walked right up to the Minister, glaring all the while.

Remus hovered nearby, ready to offer support should he fall, but Sirius would be damned if he fell now. After a moment of silence, Sirius said, “It’s not a responsibility.” He broke his eye contact with the Minister to speak directly to Harry. To show he meant it with all his heart. To ensure Harry _knew._

Sirius would gladly spend the rest of his life ensuring Harry knew how much he loved him.

“It’s a _privilege._ ” 

 


End file.
